Changeling
by D'Fuentes
Summary: Each of the turtles had an obsession, if not a deep seated passion for what they loved. How'd it start in the first place? One weird turtle-tot fic with one turtle. Guess who.


Title: Changeling  
>Genre: Crackfic  Humor / Mystery

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_Uhm, I don't own the turtle. _

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"Mnphmn - 's not cold in here," the youngling stated as I pulled the thick blue cotton sweater over his head. He was partially stifled by the material for a few seconds because I was having problems stretching the neck over his round head. This was the fourth time it happened since I insisted on pilling two sets of shirts over his already cool body. It always struck me as odd how much colder his body temperature was than mine. I wondered how he survived this long out there on his own in this chilly climate.

"S' - I like how it makes me feel warm," his statements came across my mind like bits and pieces of TV commercials; heard but ignored. I was too busy fussing with the ill-fitting clothes that I tried to adjust over the body of the stocky toddler. Well, at least I assumed that he was a toddler. Possibly four years; closer to five, and it was better than having to guess what sex the child was. I noticed that it would have been difficult to figure out when I changed his clothes. Thankfully, he saved me the trouble of guessing when he stopped to urinate on my plant the moment I brought him into my apartment, three days ago. I learned a valuable lesson that day; never keep your prized plants near your doorway where strange stray children will want to water them with their bodily fluids.

Presently, he was tugging at the fabric with his fat fingers, and smiled broadly at how easily he manipulated it. "This one doesn't itch," he finally said, letting the material rest against his skin. I smiled back at him, and patted his bald head; glad to know that I discovered his allergy to polyester. The first day I tried to dress him up, and this was after hours of searching for stretchy, elastic-fitted plus-size kids' clothing, he started fretting and scratching all over like a dog with fleas. I couldn't get him to keep still and had to use a pair of scissors to cut up the brand new clothes into pieces just to get him out. Now, he was wearing one-hundred percent cotton. Children are expensive.

"Yes, I made sure to get the right material this time," I told him, not entirely sure if he understood me or not, and took one of his hands in mine, "We need to put your gloves on now, okay." I took up one of the winter gloves and started fitting his fingers into the glove. His skin was smooth, but not without texture, and it reminded me of a snake's skin with tiny interlocking scales.

"Okay," he hummed cheerfully, watching me stretch the fingers of the glove over his thick stubs. "How many fingers are on the glove?" he asked as I skipped the middle and ring fingers of the glove to fit his third digit into the last one. They were as thick as two of my fingers and quite strong for someone so young.

"Five," I replied, laughing inwardly at the two limp fingers that remained straight out when he clenched his fists. If I cut one off, he would've probably been flipping me off without knowing it.

He frowned at my answer, creating ripples in his smooth feature-less face. "...and how many do I have?" He continued to flex his fingers in and out, enjoying the feel of the woven fabric as I fitted his naked hand into the other pair. His question made me feel awkward and I swallowed involuntarily. Who was I to tell him that he was different, and to explain why? I didn't know what his family told him; that is, if he had one. His brown curious eyes pierced into mine quizzically, waiting expectantly for an answer.

"You have three fingers," I said hesitantly, preparing myself for the next set of questions that would come.

Something like ridges rose upwards on his face where his brows were supposed to be as his eyes widened in surprise. "Three and five are different numbers, Tara," he pointed out smartly, "that means you've got the wrong thing for my hands," he waved his hands in my face, horrified at the revelation.

I spluttered, choking back a laugh. "No, no - I," I struggled to answer him seriously, and his grumpy face only made it worse. I chuckled, "Uhm, these were the only ones left in the store, so I bought them. I didn't want you to get cold when we go out." I smiled through shinning watery eyes, amused by his observation and conclusion. He wasn't satisfied by the explanation I gave him, and fussed with the empty parts of the glove. I felt sorry for the youngling creature then; ashamed of my lie and also because of his innocent view towards the underlying matter of his existence.

I found him or more so he found me, after I slipped on some ice along a trail in the park. I think I hit my head on the cold ground, and passed out for quite some time, before I woke up to ebbing waves of pain caressing the back of my skull. When I opened my eyes; I saw a green moon hanging over my face, and screamed hysterically when it spoke to me. I don't remember what he said to me because my mind was in a haze, and my screams startled him into a wailing, shivering ball.

We spent fifteen minutes or less, bawling our lungs out in the night; alone in the park. I blinked repeatedly at the huddled green figure, clad in dirty-shredded rags; terrified of it - him. I hated myself in that space of time. Scared stiff and unable to move, and not because of the shock of the fall or the coldness in my limbs, but because of the strange harmless creature huddled before me. When you're scared you're supposed to run, not freeze up.

It took me another ten minutes to come to the realization that his cries were that of a child; a mere babe, lost in a strange world. Eventually I regained my courage, as well as my dignity, and pleaded with him to stop crying. I had no idea what I was doing then, but when those huge frightened eyes looked up at me, something else took hold of me; taking control over my body.

I suddenly wanted to console and protect him; yet my natural instincts kept intact. They made me tremble with fear even as I reached out to touch him. I didn't know what the hell he was or what he would do or if his mother was lurking somewhere between the trees around us. If she was; she had every opportunity to jump out and tear me to shreds with her teeth, like an angry mother-bear that wanted to defend her cubs. I had visions of my neck being torn apart by sharp claws, and powerful jaws with long teeth, cracking my skull open like delicious coconuts.

I flinched at the impossible thoughts, and let the alien take over. _She_ calmed the creature-child with soothing feathery words, which sounded and felt so much like a dream that even I had trouble believing that it was me who said those things. My mind was in such a fog at the time, that I actually brought the little creature into my home.

"Tara, where do you get TVs?" he asked, abandoning his hands and moving towards the television. Over the last three days I kept the TV unplugged because I did not want a repeat of what happened the first time I allowed him to look at it.

The morning after I found him; I turned the TV on and it hypnotized him, placing him into some kind of artificial suspended animation for nearly six hours. I broke the streak when I turned it off, and he got up to run towards the screen to catch the colorful images that were on it. Unfortunately, his legs were cramped-up from sitting like Buddha all those hours, and he fell over, landing on his shell.

Spinning like a top on the rug, he admonished me for sending the people away, and fussed and cried over his inability to right himself. After staring at the amazing scene for a while, I helped the turtle-toddler up and fed him cheerios to make up for my insensitivity. He told me that he had never seen a television before and asked if I could fix it for him to watch again. I agreed, not knowing that he was going to attack the appliance and pry all of the buttons out of the remote.

"You get TVs at appliance stores," I answered, stalking behind him with a hooded jacket and hat. He had his back turned to me, staring intently at his reflection in the blank screen. I snuck the hat on his head, and he whirled on me before I could fix it properly.

He pulled the hat down a little further before focusing on me, "Appliance stores," he repeated in an awed tone. Fascination shone in his eyes like newborn stars, flaming with intrigue. If I didn't know any better I'd swear that appliance stores were gods. "Is that where they make them? How do they make them work? Do you think they could fix yours? Are we carrying it to get it fixed today?" the little chubby kid bounced around the TV anxiously, scuffing his boots into the rug.

Chuckling, I stopped him before he could do more damage to my rug, and tried to persuade his arms into the sleeves of the coat. "Well, I bet they could, but we're not going there today," I pulled the oversized coat over his body to seal him in and ended up jerking him a bit too roughly. "Sorry," I quickly apologized before he could complain.

He didn't seem to mind and patted the area over his stomach. I was doing some research on the internet and learned the proper name for that particular part of his anatomy. It was called a plastron. I wondered if he knew that. He looked directly at my face, and tilted his head to one side; puzzled. "Where are we going then?" He poked my nose with his finger, pressing it flat against my face. I snorted and pulled back from the youngling's probe.

"We're going to try to find your family," I explained, fixing the hood over his head. The weather was finally stable after throwing temperamental tantrums over the past few days; therefore, it was much safer to go back to Central Park. I didn't want to take the risk of slipping on ice again and getting hurt while I was alone out there. Not only that; having a four-year-old unknown specie with me complicated things. He could get lost or hurt or discovered by the wrong kind of people who'd be willing to turn him into a biology lab experiment.

Not something I wanted to be responsible for. All of these things were churning in my brain, building up my anxiety, causing writhing knots to form in my stomach. In addition to that, I kept wondering about his mother or parents. I practically kidnapped their child and had him in my apartment for three entire days. I wouldn't blame her for turning into an angry mama bear -turtle-thing and attacking me for her offspring. I was about as nervous as a whore in church.

Never once did it cross my mind that he may be an orphan. He never spoke about his family in a sense that would give specific details about one particular member. Meaning; he spoke about them as a group. He used terms like: 'My family', 'we', 'us', and such. He did say 'my brothers' a couple times, but that was it. I never heard any names or titles so I wasn't sure about the family's dynamics. At least he was raised by a fairly large group of individuals. His conversations with me were mostly one-sided, and were based on the items in and around my home.

There was the television; which was a popular topic around here, then the shower, the bathroom, the sink and the toilet. He wanted to know if the water from the toilet comes out in the sink, or if it goes to the shower. His fascination increased tenfold when I introduced him to the washer and dryer. I thought that he'd be scared of the rumbling tumbling noises, but instead he wanted to climb inside of them to investigate why they were making so much noise. Were they angry? Are they hungry? What are they saying?

I told him that I didn't know how to speak in _Whirlpool_. My other answers however, no matter how mundane they were, never put a thorn in his interest and thus all my other appliances became obsessions to him. I was glad for that since they compensated for the television restriction. Besides, his queries were rather interesting and had me thinking about stuff that I never once gave a second thought. Do we really have to wait for the microwave beeping to come to a complete stop before getting the food out, or does it mean that it's safe? I should_ Bing_ that.

"We're really going to find my family?" his face lit up like a bulb, but he still had a curious look in his eyes, and continued to poke my nose. I had him so bundled that he looked like a large ball of yarn, with the pants legs folded and bunched-up so much that he had trouble walking in them. They rubbed against each other whenever he took a step, and it made him waddle clumsily.

"Yes we are," I pushed his hands away from my face and bent down to pick him. No, I tried to pick him up, but my effort failed miserably, resulting in a loud pathetic groan. Damn, he was heavy, and it was my fault too. The second time I attempted to pick him up; I did it in the way I had seen parents do, but my arms couldn't lift him off the floor. I thought - maybe his legs weighed too much from hanging down - so I tried to put my arm behind his knees to lift him up again only to have him slip off, laughing. I immediately gave up on that bright idea, and bent my knees to try again.

"We're going back to the place with all those trees?" He asked as I wrapped my hands underneath his arms, and lifted him with my knees.

Breathing deeply after successfully lifting him off the floor I said, "Yep. That place is called Central Park." My voice sounded strained as though I was lifting weights, and I shifted him to my left side. "Remember to keep your face down, okay," I warned him, "we don't want you getting sick from the cold." I felt bad about saying those things to him, but it was for his own safety. Getting him out of my apartment and into the car was easy. No one suspected anything odd about him as long as he was well dressed and kept his head down.

It also helped that he was smaller than the average four-year-old. Much-much smaller. If I hadn't heard him speak, I would've thought that he was two. The hard part was maneuvering between people who were curious to see my new bundle of joy. Luckily for me, the youngling was very obedient when it came to going outside. He pretended to be fast asleep on my shoulder with his face hidden in my neck.

I felt for my wallet and keys in my pocket before locking my door, and hurriedly made my way down the auburn corridor towards the elevator. When I got to it, there was a single middle-aged female inside, and she looked like she just crawled out of hibernation with a faux fur coat and pasty make-up. I wasted my breath in greeting her because the comely woman chose to cast a long disapproving look at me. Other busy tenants joined us in the elevator as it descended, and I was doused with curious glances. Those who were accustomed to seeing me wanted to know where I got the child from, but never dared to ask. I saw it in their eyes.

One woman even made a snide comment about us. She said that you will always know a new mother by the way she dresses her child. Apparently I dressed my 'baby' for a blizzard when there was hardly any snow falling. I simply shook my head at her comment. If she only knew.

"No, I wasn't hiding him," I whispered loudly into my friend's ear for everyone else to hear. "I was babysitting him," I continued, hearing relieved sighs escape from some. Mason, who lives on the third floor, was one of the few people in my building that I socialized with. He was dressed for work, and shot me a baffled look because he never asked me for an explanation.

"Okay, but it's none of my business, really," he was shaking his head in amusement. The most he said to me prior to my announcement was: 'Hi, and hi to that little person you've got there. You never fail to amaze me, Tara. You're quite the busy girl.' He smirked, arching his caterpillar-brows at me teasingly.

He wasn't the type of person to ask you questions about your personal life or endeavors, and that's what I liked the most about him. I grinned at him, and we parted ways on the ground floor.

The turtle child's arms tightened around my neck as we headed for the car. "Who was that?" He whispered, cupping his mouth to my ear.

"My friend Mason," I replied, struggling to retrieve my car keys from my pocket.

"Your friend?" he said with interest; and I could almost hear the gears turning in his little brain. "What about me? Am I your friend?"

"Yes, you are my friend as well," I told him, pulling the door open to the red sedan. I dropped the blue bundle inside on the seat, and he gave my nose one last tug before I stepped back and closed the door. What's with him and my nose? I rubbed my nose as I climbed into the driver's seat. "Why do you keep touching my nose?" I asked the beaming toddler.

He had his legs outstretched; arms to his sides, and was tipping from side to side, rolling on his backside like a Roly-Poly Clown. "Nose, so that's what it is!" he exclaimed, stopping his motion to touch his own face. "I don't have a nose," he crossed his eyes trying to look at the center of his face, "why don't I have a nose?" he asked, jumping up in the seat to see his reflection on the rearview mirror.

I turned around and leaned over to catch him. "You have a nose; it's just different from mine. It's smaller," I coaxed him back into the seat and buckled his seatbelt, pulling every fiber of muscle in my sides to get the task done. His question was actually something I was mulling over in my mind. Where was his nose? Until one night I satisfied my curiosity by peering into his face while he was asleep. I almost didn't see the tiny nostrils until I waved my palm over his face and felt the hot stream of air hitting my hand. They were situated smack in the center of his face above the mouth just like an ordinary nose.

"Why is it different?" His search for answers was always persistent.

I sighed heavily. I had no idea why, or how I should go about answering that. I knew nothing about him, or his biological make-up except for his physical appearance which resembled a turtle. Despite my ignorance, I answered anyway, giving him an answer that I thought was the easiest way out. "Because God made it so," I hesitated, feeling like the answer wasn't enough, and added, "He made each and every one of us different so that we could be special in our own little ways." I think I ultimately crashed and burned when I saw his facial expression. There was no way in hell this child-of-many-questions was going to leave it at that.

"Who is God? Is he a man? Does he live in your building? Did he make you? Did he really make me? I'm more different than you and all those people back there, Tara. You have noses, and I don't. Think he made a mistake?" the youngling leaned forward and tapped me on the shoulder with each question. They burst out of him like water being expelled from a flooded dam and I couldn't get a chance to answer any of them.

"Who is God, Tara?" He sounded worried when he repeated the question.

Groaning, I palmed my face and started the engine. "God is - the creator of everything on earth, and He lives in a place called Heaven," I pointed upwards for emphasis, "See, no one has ever seen Him nor do we know exactly where Heaven is, but we do know that it's somewhere up there." I wasn't exactly religious or the avid church goer, but I prayed that my explanation was sufficed.

"Oh," I heard his little voice go distant in the back, "if no one knows what he looks like or where he lives; how do you know Him in the first place? You said that he made everything on earth. Did he make the TVs too? I thought appliance stores made the TVs."

_Oh, for the love of_ - I tightened my grip on the steering wheel in trepidation, "Look, I don't have all the answers for you right now, but if you'd like, I'd ask someone else who knows about all that stuff and get back to you with the answers, okay. Is that alright with you?" I lost my patience in that spur of the moment, hearing it in the way I spoke to him. I treated him as if he were an adult. It wasn't my fault exactly. I'm an only child with hardly any exposure to young children. The only thing I could wish for now, was to find his family and send him off without ever worrying about seeing him again. That way I wouldn't have to go searching for answers about God and the origins of life. I have other things to do.

I tipped the mirror to see him in it, and relaxed when I saw him doing his Roly-Poly dance regardless of the restricting seatbelt. "Yep," he chirped merrily, "I'm glad God created you. 'Cause if he hadn't; I wouldn't've found you," he pointed at me with a mischievous smile on his face.

Readjusting the mirror, I smiled, knowing that he was remembering how he found me. He told me that he left home in search for his brothers because he saw them leave the _lair_, his words not mine, and ended up getting lost in the tunnels.

"_I didn't know which one they went in, so I picked one and walked a long, long ways till I came out by the trees. There were so many of them. All around, with white stuff on the ground by their feet. I wanted to know what it felt like so I walked to this one tree to touch the white stuff, and it was cold and icky. That's when I saw you down the hill. You were running, and then you fell on your back and went to sleep," he was holding his tummy and giggling at that point._

The manner in which I fell was extremely funny to him. According to him, my legs went straight up as my head came down. He came down from his scenic view point to watch me _sleep_ for several hours before I woke up. I believed I fell around 5 pm, and when I came to; my watch displayed 9 pm. He said he couldn't find his way back home because all of the trees looked the same. I was cold, afraid and had a mind numbing headache; who was I to argue with that.

An hour later, the little intuitive tyke and I found ourselves wandering along my secret jogging trail; near the area I had my accident. The air was chilly and it sat lazily in the depression where we were located. Breathing the still air was a tedious process to me because it felt like tiny needle-like teeth were biting inside of my lungs. At least it wasn't too cold to be considered dangerous. I wasn't used to walking around so slowly out here at this time of the year. Normally, I'd be jogging in all my gear, and the heat from my body would've warmed up the air before it reached my lungs.

The youngling didn't complain about the trek, but he made sure to occupy his time by asking tons of questions. I had to explain what snow was, why the water froze, how tall can a tree get, to what makes them grow, why some had leaves on them while others lost theirs, and many others.

"Tara?"

"Yeah?" I answered without looking down at him. I didn't want to miss the slightest movement between the trees.

"Have you ever seen a wolf?" He was practically skipping clumsily when he asked the question, and I shivered subconsciously, having been reminded of another vicious animal. I knew that there weren't any in Central Park, but the fact that we were alone with nature, especially after discovering him, who knew what sort of wild animals roamed the landscape. New York is certainly a jungle, and not what most think of it.

"On television; yes. In real; no," I replied.

He stopped to think, I believe, and I had to wait for him to resume waddling before I continued walking. He looked comical moving in all that clothes; awfully padded, and often had to pull on my arm to get his balance back. "Are there any wolves out here?" he asked.

"No, there aren't any wolves out here," I confirmed, feeling his hand relax in mine. So the little inquirer was scared. I smiled, and tightened my fist over his chubby hand.

"What about tigers? There has to be tigers," he said with certainty.

"No tigers, either," I said; then a disappointed 'awe' sound came from him, I chuckled, "This is a park, so you wouldn't find any of those animals here. The most you'd find out here are birds and squirrels."

"-and trees," he included, "...earthworms, frogs, and rats. What about turtles?"

My eyes met his bright curious pair, and I studied him for a moment, wondering if he knew that he was some kind of turtle hybrid. I wasn't sure if the child was capable of asking me trick questions, or if he was suggesting something a bit deeper; a hidden secret about him and his 'so-called' family. An evolutionary treasure buried in the heart of one of the largest populations in the States and also under the one-hundred and thirty-six acres of woodland. "Yes, there are turtles as well," I swung his arm back and forth for fun.

"Oh, so nothing will come out to eat us before we find my family, right?" He was once again seeking confirmation and I affirmed it. "...but why aren't there wolves, and tigers? What about bears? You never said anything about bears," he added.

I rolled my eyes at his dreadful knowledge quest and began explaining what I could to him. Five minutes turned into twenty and then to forty-five, and before I knew it, we were wandering alone for nearly two hours. Nearly. I was forced to lift the toddler up when he stopped moving all entirely and sat down. He told me that nothing looked familiar to his 'lair', and said that we've looked everywhere already because we passed the same group of trees five times. He was tired, and everything looked the same to him. I think I need to find a legal trail to jog on. This one was far too lonely. There was nothing to be heard or seen, but tall silent trees that made up a mysterious slumbering wood. A fairy-tale forest, void of birds and squirrels, magically dusted with snow that looked like powdery sugar.

"Tara, where are they? I don't see my family," the toddler said sleepily, burying his face in my neck. His skin felt cooler than before, and I realized that he was seeking out the heat from my own skin.

"I don't know, sweetie. I thought that they'd be out here looking for you," my heart sank in my chest for the small, but heavy child. I was really disappointed about not being able to locate his home. Sighing heavily, I turned around and headed back down the trail; playfully sloshing through some of my older footprints. My knees protested against the additional weight I carried; an experience which I treated as intense exercise. Somewhere along the walk he fell asleep, slackening his hold around my neck. I had to constantly keep pushing him up on my shoulder for his head to remain there because he would slip down every twelve steps I took.

Upon breaching the last turn; I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I stopped moving so that I could listen carefully without the interference of my boots crunching down on the soil. I could have sworn I saw a shadow move between the trees on my right. My nerves were on edge as I searched the spaces between the trees for whatever it was I saw. I heard and saw nothing. It was just as quiet and clear as it was when we passed the first time. Slowly, I started walking again with my eyes set firmly on the trees.

What I was supposed to be doing was watching where I was walking, and the idea came to me a moment too late. My toe hit a jutting rock that was about the size of a dog's head, sending me hurtling forward on the rugged path. I cried out, twisting around to clutch the turtle-child's body tightly against mine to prevent him from hitting the ground. The sudden noise startled him awake, and he choked me in fear. I allowed myself to drop down on my knees first, tearing away the material and skin that covered them. Then a large object flashed in front of me, wrenching my little companion out of my arms.

I heard his terrified scream as I fell onto the icy ground. I saw feet moving hastily around me, in a dance-like motion, and they were wrapped in thick layers of black cloth. The feet were so well bound in the soft material that it hardly made any sound on the crusty earth. Kneading the crystal-like soil between my fingers, I pushed myself upwards to stand. However, before I could look up; a hand landed on my shoulder and pinched the flesh between my neck and shoulder blade.

"You will forget about him from this moment on," a firm male voice whispered in my ear, making me turn cold in fear. His voice sounded aged; a deep well of unspoken secrets and wisdom. "Do not search for him; for he is safe." Whoever it was; switched something off in me, shutting down my brain completely, and pitted me in a weightless world of darkness.

I emerged from it to find myself in an upright sitting position, leaning against a vehicle, surrounded by two fitness enthusiast. The woman was snapping her fingers in my face while the man repeatedly asked if I was alright. Currently, they were both blurry colorful images to me so it didn't matter if they broke into a disagreement over what they should do with me.

I felt exhausted, and I had a weird strained feeling in my neck that complimented the mind splitting jackhammer that decided to play 'crack the concrete' inside my head. I groaned, rubbing the sore spot on my neck and stood up, blinking. "What happened?" I asked, putting an end to the couple's bickering.

"We were about to ask you the same thing," the woman said. "When we came back from our run, we found you sitting there, out cold. That was two minutes ago... before you woke up. Thought you got hypothermia or something. I think we need to get you to a hospital." Her voice was shrilly and concerned, and her brows were twisted into a knot at the top of her plump face.

"I - uh," I stood up wearily, cringing at the pain in my knees. They were bruised and crusted over with dried blood that stung when I flexed them. The man immediately lent his support by putting his hands beneath my elbows. I leaned back on the car; which was coincidently mine, and frantically sorted through the images in my mind. What the heck happened back there? I thought, wondering over the mysterious stalker that knocked me out and took the kid out of my arms…

"Shit!" I swore so loudly, that the man stepped back from me in shock. His wife's eyes were round and wide, if not confused by my expletive. "Shit - shit - shit!" I swung around so sharply, forgetting about my stiff knees and almost lost my balance. The couple stared at me as I circled the area in my frantic search for the little lost child.

"Hey, take it easy there, lady," the man stretched his arms out and waved them in a downward motion as if he were trying to guide an orchestra into a slow melodramatic finale. "Calm down," he said soothingly.

"What's wrong, hon?" the lady asked, "you look like you lost something." She was right about that. They were hovering around me; prepared to catch me if I fell, and looked frightened by my frenzied actions. "Listen, you need to calm down. We will find whatever it was you lost, but first you need to rest - or at least see a doctor," the woman pleaded with me. Her actions reminded me of a doting-caring grandmother who probably wanted to share her endless warmth with the world when none of her offspring were around to absorb it. I suddenly became the object of her universal love.

I shot an exasperated look at them, "I lost," I paused to consider what I was going to tell them: a four-year-old child that looked like a walking-talking turtle; dressed in navy blue trousers and a blue hooded coat. Nice, Tara, nice. "Uhm, you guys didn't happen to notice anyone with me, did you?"

They paused and shifted in uncertainty before looking at each other with worried expressions, and shook their heads rapidly. "No, dear," the man swallowed fearfully, "We saw no one up here but you."

I grimaced in disappointment at their lack of information. Suddenly my wild imaginations about being attacked by bears that looked like turtle creatures seemed more inviting than this crazy day I was having. I had hoped at least, that they would have seen the person who took the youngling from me. The only thing I knew about them was that they were wearing strange footwear. '_They_'...the word hit a high note in my skull. There was more than one of them. I wasn't sure how many to be exact, but several pairs of feet trampled in front of my view as I tried to push myself off the ground.

The stranger's words replayed in my mind as I skimmed over the fresh memory. "_You will forget about him from this moment on. Do not search for him; for he is safe._" For he is safe. How the heck was I supposed to be sure about that? Damn it to hell. Maybe they were his family after all. Who knows? The least they could have done was show a little gratitude by showing themselves to me and saying thank you. Was that so hard to do? I brought the little _Investigator_ back for them for crying out loud. I was fuming in my mind - feeding energy into a storm as raging thoughts whipped around the eye. The elderly couple stood there watching me; silently waiting for me to snap out of my trance, and come back to earth with them.

I couldn't tell them about the child for a number of different reasons. One; he wasn't human so I couldn't give them a description of him, and two; if I told them that I lost him out here, they'd want to know why he was out here in the first place or worse yet, they would want to initiate a full blown search, involving the authorities and the media. I couldn't do that to the turtle-child; I couldn't expose him. That won't be fair to him. I gathered my senses and resigned myself to not reveal anything about him to these people. On the other hand, I might as well be setting myself up to be institutionalized. Yes, that solidified my decision. I had to have faith that I'd returned him to his rightful family, and that they were going to keep him safe. It wasn't an instruction I got. It was a promise. I sighed in defeat; burdened by the amount of trust I was forced to put into something unknown.

"Who was out here with you?" The frail wiry man asked. His eyes were faded with age and had this clouded grey color to them. He placed his hand on his wife's own to settle her disturbed presence. She was already railed up by the news of someone else being out here with me; missing.

"Uhm, no one really. I thought I saw something among the trees," I gave a weak deceitful smile, making sure that they saw me blush. "It could've been my imagination," I shrugged, seeing their reaction to my pseudo embarrassment. "I tripped right around here; scraped my knees and hands, and sat down to clear my head," I quickly explained. I was thinking about how the mysterious person brought me back to my own vehicle and laid me here. How could they have known that this was my car? The youngling must've told them. I fetched my car key out of my pocket, and dabbed the key-ring attached lip balm on my lips.

The couple stared at me for half a beat, unsure about what I was telling them, and took a deep breath simultaneously as they seemed to slowly soak in my explanation. "Well, okay then," the man sounded glad to have all this resolved, "I think you should be heading home now. Makes no sense hanging around here anymore. You seem to be fine - just shaken up a bit from the fall I guess. This your car? We'll follow you out if you like? Just to make sure. Can never be too safe, right Samantha?" he concluded, requesting affirmation from his wife.

"Carl is right, dear. You can never be too safe," the woman rubbed her husband's arm lovingly. "Be sure to visit a doctor, young lady," she wagged her finger threateningly at me.

I let out a short laugh. "Yes, of course," I promised her.

Feeling satisfied with my reply; she smiled warmly and patted me on the arm. "Good luck, dear," she said as I opened the door to my car and slid into the driver's seat. I waved at them and started the engine to set out for home. It felt weird and empty without the toddler sitting in the backseat; a place where he would probably never see again. It was sad, but at least - hopefully- he was with his family.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

_The End._

… … … … … … … … … … … …

_Well, this stupid piece of crap has been bothering me for a very long time. I just had to spit it out there. This is version 2 by the way. Version 1 was going in a direction that I wasn't too comfortable with. Anyway, random shit happens when I have a block, so to hell with it. _

_I own Tara. She's sort of quirky. Slightly…I think. _


End file.
